I don’t find any inspiration to write anymore. I was an active blogger. Words were flowing from the tip of my pen. I scratched down so many ideas down in my tiny, old notebook. 
Now, it feels like I just want to give up on everything. Basically, what I am trying to say is that now I am in “depressive” mode. Someone made me realise that I suffer from bipolar disorder. 

Leaving that, coming to the main point of my today’s post. I distract a lot. It’s because I am highly unstable. I was. Now-a-days, I am just going with the wind. 

Wait. What was I talking about? Aah, yes! This post is titled, “Spilled words.” 

I went through a time that I never want to relive again. Things I did, things I have been haunt me. Still. Being an amateur writer, I scratch a lot of things down. It’s like my memoir. Now, that my wounds are healed. I look back to what I was. The scars have remained in my body. They symbolised the things I have been through and my mouth whispers, “Thank you.” 

The bleeding has stopped.

The scars remained. 

You have gone.

But the memories will stay. 


I still don’t understand why the heck am I writing. I have been writing it since many days. It’s very difficult for me to pour down the words unlike before when I used to fluently write a paragraph in a minute. 

Pain has always been the catalyst in writer’s life. It makes you do terrible things and also great things. 

  • I still look at that crumpled piece of paper where I scribbled things with no meaning. 
  • I still remember the moment in the classroom, when I was sitting alone with the blade in my hand.
  • I still remember how distressed I was that I pierced my skin with the compass held in my hand. 
  • I still remember when a test tube in the lab, was broken by someone and I took the glass piece and cut myself. 
  • I still remember how you looked at me under that dim light. 

But now, it feels different. My perspective has changed. I feel stronger than what I was. My wounds have healed. My heart has healed. My brain is getting stable. I feel better. 

Time heals you. It truly does. I am living proof of that. 


I remember writing stuff when you came into my life and made me much better than what I was. And I remember writing stuff when you left me like your job was done. But you know what? Thank you. 

Thank you for making me feel like I was worth something. 

Thank you for making me better. 

Thank you for making me realise that I wasn’t enough for you. 

I would always lose in your games. A game where she won and I lost. Putting it aside, I don’t hate you. I just don’t like you as a person anymore. You’re not even going to read that but I would just like to tell that, never play games. I wish you could have told me that you didn’t believe in love shared among lovers. I wish you could have just realised much earlier that it’s her who is worth it. That it’s her who understands you. I wish you didn’t play with me and made me feel so important. 

Should you ever come back, don’t. Don’t. 

In my journal, I wrote “Goodbye. A new journey begins.” And since that moment, I moved on. From you and a person who I thought to be my best friend. I don’t hate you both. And I am sure you are good people. Be happy. 

My journal is now clean. The pages about you are burnt. My contacts list doesn’t have your number. My lips will never utter your name. My words will never be for you. 

This is my last words for you as I am erasing you from my mind. 

Thank you. 💔

~ A Brahma 🔺 

The girl who realised she was far off better than having hypocrite people in her life. ❤️

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